A source of knowledge, a source of hope
by Red Aurora
Summary: A giant chunk of stadium lighting falling on a person doesn't tend to leave them uninjured. Charles finds that out the hard way and Erik has some time to think.
1. Chapter 1

_I have two other stories I should be working on now, but this scene wouldn't leave me alone, so I'm writing it. It might end up with an additional chapter if I feel inspired to include more feels, but for now we'll leave it at this._

_The title comes from a quote by Stephen Ambrose: "The past is a source of knowledge, and the future is a source of hope."_

* * *

Nausea rushed over him in waves as he utilized Erik's unconscious mind for his own purposes. Not just because he was in Erik's mind for the first time in a decade (not to mention against the man's will). The day had been taxing. He hadn't used his powers so strenuously in, well, years. He could feel his former friend flickering back to consciousness. The realization of what was happening to him was quick to follow. Was the nausea he felt now a result of his own physical limitations or of Erik's horror?

Letting Erik have his mind back didn't solve the problem. Another wave slammed into him as Hank pulled him to his feet, this time accompanied by a deluge lightheadedness. He watched Erik regain control of his mind, felt the wrath at having lost it in the first place, yet another betrayal on top of the blow one-time second-in-command had dealt. He masked the stinging pain of it well, staring for a moment at the helmet. Charles wouldn't have known the difference a week ago. Pain and anger were easily conflated on the outside for how different they felt telepathically.

Odd how quickly one got reacquainted with what they'd lost.

Erik was looking at him now.

"If you let them have me I'm as good as dead. You know that."

Of course. Of course now he had to decide Erik's fate. As if there were a question as to what he'd choose. Charles had a response on the tip of his tongue when he felt his grip on Hank slip. He didn't mran for his head to nod forward, swinging the rest of his body with it into Hank's chest, but now that he was here, it felt rather pleasant.

Hank stumbled a couple of steps back with the addition of the unexpected weight. "Charles?"

_His_ _puzzlement tastes of blueberries_, Charles thought as the world spun around him. _Blueberries and snow._ He was supposed to be doing something, right? There were important people nearby. He could hear them thinking important thoughts. Whatever it was, it could wait while he rested his eyes.

He must have projected because the puzzlement shifted to panic almost immediately. Why his thoughts would panic anyone Charles didn't know. He wasn't Erik, thinking about all the different ways he could kill the humans around him. Maybe he should think of something else. Something happy. Raven and training younger mutants and-

It wasn't working. In fact, the panic was increasing. And it wasn't just from Hank anymore.

* * *

Charles was taking far too long to respond. As if his fate was deserving of debate. Well, Erik wouldn't stand around and wait for the telepath to draw his conclusions, especially if they involved choosing humans over one of his own. If Charles wanted to stop him, he would. Magnetic fields wrapped around him like a blanket, and he was just about to lift off the ground when he heard Hank call Charles' name. The telepath was slumped over. McCoy staggered, eyes widening. There was the oddest echo, something about blueberries.

What the hell was going on?

Raven called Charles' name and started to hobble toward where the telepath was stood behind a hunk of rubble. Ah, the thought had come Charles. He'd never felt such a scattered projection from the man before. Something was wrong. He looked up in time to see Hank's eyes widening even further at something in the area blocked from Erik's sight by the stadium lighting that had fallen.

"Shit!"

Hank McCoy did a lot of things, but cursing was not one of them. Erik hadn't seen anyone go from concern to all out panic that fast since the Kennedy assassination.

"What's going on?" Raven called, her limping speeding up. Erik started to move forward as well, tried to keep his stride even, but losing sight of Charles as McCoy lowered his shockingly pliant body back to the ground put an end to that plan. By the time Raven arrived and her face crumpled with a whispered "Oh God", he was at a run.

He heard raised voices behind him. With a flick of his wrist, the humans were enclosed in their metal box again and the cameras shut off. No need to worry about them interfering in whatever was happening behind the chunk of stadium. Surely it couldn't be as bad as the others were letting on.

It was.

His momentum was enough that the beam blocking Charles from sight did a majority of the job stopping him. That left him bent over it at the waist trying to see what was wrong. Charles was blinking up at them, clearly unaware of anyone's presence. His eyes were rolling around in his head, never staying on one object for more than a second despite what appeared to be a valiant attempt at focus. He was breathing, but it was short and shallow, almost panting. All symptoms Erik had seen before. They could indicate a variety of injuries, but he'd seen it the most with-

His gaze moved down Charles' body, not sure whether he wanted his suspicion confirmed or not. His stomach dropped.

Charles' right pant leg was dripping with blood. Not the bleeding that came from a scrape or a cut. No, everything from just above the knee down to the ankle was saturated, puddling under him and absorbing into the ground. A hole torn in the pants revealed the culprit, a nasty wound ripped though his thigh. But how-

Erik glanced to the chunk of metal Charles had used him to remove. A jagged piece of the beam was tipped a solid two to three inches in red, probably from where it had broken off the top of the stadium. It was purely Charles' bad luck that it had fallen jagged-side-down onto his unfeeling legs where he couldn't have possibly known the danger he was in when he carelessly tossed it aside.

How long had he been bleeding out? The metal would have stopped the blood, so even if he'd been suffering from shock, blood loss wouldn't have set in until the wound was opened…maybe one minute ago. That was far too much blood for one minute. Something vital had been hit. He'd killed men like this before.

When he was being merciful.

When he wanted it to be quick.

Charles had five minutes max.

He'd tossed the beam blocking him to the side, finally able to kneel beside his friend. His cape was off before he even thought about it, and he pressed it to the wound. Hank was pulling his belt off. A tourniquet. It wouldn't be enough.

He could feel the blood leaving Charles' body. Felt his heart pumping it down, unknowingly accelerating its own demise. Hank buckled his belt just above the wound. The flow slowed.

Belated realization struck him. He was feeling Charles' blood with his power. Because blood had iron. And if blood had iron…then maybe he could control it. He'd never attempted it before. The thought had never occurred to him. He didn't even know if he was capable. But he had to try now.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the iron he felt coursing through Charles' leg. Stopping bloodflow completely would be bad, he knew that much, but if he could slow it, give them a chance to get to the hospital.

He could feel himself wavering where he knelt over Charles, hands clamped over the cape covering the wound like an eagle held its prey. It was difficult. But it was also working. He wouldn't need to hold it long. Just long enough.

"What are you doing?" Hank had clearly noticed a change in Erik's demeanor.

"Slowing the bloodflow. It's not a permanent solution-"

A smack sounded from the top of Charles' body. Charles was blinking dazedly, his pale (very pale…practically grey) cheek pinking as Raven pulled her hand back.

"Stay awake, Charles, you hear me? You stay awake."

"Raven?" the telepath slurred.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Mmm, thought you'd gone." Charles frowned. He tried to lift a hand, frowned harder when it didn't cooperate. He was shivering, appeared to be cold, clammy. Whether it was from the blood loss or shock, Erik didn't know, but neither option was good.

"I'm still here," she said, tears in her voice.

"We need to get him to a hospital," Erik said. "I'm slowing the bleeding, but it hasn't bought us more than half an hour."

"Erik?" Charles was blinking hard at him, focus still lacking, but better than before. "I thought you'd left too. Gone for a- a run. Or, no, um…I don't…I don't feel…"

His eyes rolled up and closed, and his head slipped to the side. Some of his ridiculously long hair slipped across his face.

Three panicked voices called out Charles' name. Three because, Erik realized, his own was one of them. His heart was racing. There was a burning behind his eyes. He was panicking for the first time in…he didn't know.

Hank shook. The hand he ran across his forehead left a streak of blood in its wake. "Ambulances should be on their way, but-"

"You can run with him," Erik said. "You're fast." At least he had been when he'd trained all those years ago.

Hank shook his head manically. "I- I can't. I took too much of the serum so the Sentinal would judge me as a human."

Ah, yes, the Sentinal he'd sicced on his fellow mutants. Erik glanced to Mystique, but his eyes landed on the still-fresh bullet wound in her leg instead. Both of Charles' options for help were taken out directly and indirectly by Erik's hand.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Charles was going to die here, to bleed out in front of the White House. Their older counterparts had worked together to save the future and the first thing that was going to happen after they (presumably...hopefully) succeeded was that Charles was going to die. Charles had used him, gone into his mind and made a puppet of him for his own purposes...but that didn't mean he wanted to opportunity to reconcile ripped from him. No.

He gestured to the jacket Hank wore as he started unsnapping his armor. "Give me the jacket."

"What-"

"I'll get him to the hospital. My helmet was on. The news stations won't have my face to broadcast for at least another hour, probably more since I'd imagine the government offices that would distribute the pictures are in disarray. I'll land us a block from the hospital and run the rest of the way. He'll fit in with the rest of the casualties."

Hank tensed. "You just tried to kill at least a dozen people-"

"But not him!" Erik yelled. The last piece of armor fell away. "Would you like your mentor to die while we argue over who is most capable of caring for him?"

Hank pursed his lips but took his jacket off and threw it to Erik. Erik put it on. With the armor off, he was left in an innocuous maroon top and black pants. With Hank's dirtied jacket, he'd pass as an ordinary citizen who had been near the stadium when it fell. At least he wouldn't be shot at on sight when he walked into the ER.

He hoisted Charles into his arms. "Get to the hospital as soon as you can."

With that, he was in the air, rocketing towards the hospital.

* * *

When you're flying, you have time to think, even if you're trying to get the deadweight of your friend to a hospital. But thinking wasn't always a good thing, especially when half your mind is still set on the task it set out to perform.

He'd been thwarted again. Tried to show the humans the power of mutantkind and failed. Well, not failed. They'd seen what he could do. He supposed Mystique's actions might even put off the Sentinal-fuelled apocalypse for a few years. Yet the war was still coming.

And here in his arms was easily the most direct threat to his winning that war. Mystique would be problematic, but Charles…Charles could find him anywhere, make him think things he didn't think, do things he didn't want. Charles Xavier could make it so he didn't even know he'd wanted anything different from what Charles wanted.

That threat could be gone. Charles' life was literally in his hands. All he had to do was let go of the hold he was keeping on the man's wound and set them down too far from the hospital. It would be over in less than five minutes.

Yet he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He looked down at Charles' slack face, a face he would apparently still be working with in 50 years. The past had taught him that people betrayed you. Relationships never lasted. Others would only get in the way. Yet, in the future, they'd found a way around their differences, rebuilt the shambles of the relationship. Based on the past few days, he couldn't guess how, but they had. And the thought of being responsible for Charles' death now made him feel physically ill. It couldn't end here. Not knowing what the future might hold for them.

He hated Charles for doing this to him.

He also decidedly did not hate Charles. That was more of a problem than anything else.

And he was at the hospital. He stood for a moment in the alley he'd set them down in. No one had seen, what with all the chaos. A siren blared nearby. He could still…this would be his last chance.

Charles' shook in his arms. Erik closed his eyes, took a breath, and stalked out of the alley towards the emergency room.

"I need some help!"

* * *

_"If you let them have me I'm as good as dead. You know that." is a direct quote from the movie._

_Erik is hard for me to write because every single one of his choices baffles me. How did he think any of that was a good idea? Like, seriously. Who goes into a situation knowing that the future includes giant robots that can kill everyone and says "You know what will make this better? Killing the president and showing everyone why they might want robots who can kill us all." I'm sure there's some crazy logic to it, but I can't find it. So, long story short, Erik might be OOC based on the movie version of him. I tried._


	2. Chapter 2

_I can't believe the amazing responses I got to this story! Thanks so much! _

_So...I wrote a second chapter. Less Erik, more Charles this time. Hopefully it turned out okay._

* * *

Charles had woken feeling exhausted. Exhaustion wasn't exactly the feeling one strove for upon waking, but it was an experience he'd had more often than not over the past few years. That was the reason why it wasn't the exhaustion, but rather the dizziness that accompanied it that tipped him off that something wasn't right. There might have been a touch of nausea as well, though there was a distinct possibility that feeling belonged to someone else. The voices bouncing around his head made the fact that he was in hospital clear. It took far more energy than it should have to reinforce his shields against them, which also had the unfortunate side effect of confirming the nausea did, in fact, belong to him. Damn.

His disoriented mind shot towards the familiar. He caught it short and reeled it back in. At least he knew Hank was nearby. And, oh, so was Raven. Not in the room like Hank…not even in the building, but close. On…a boat? That didn't make sense-

Someone was saying his name, probably Hank judging by the pitch, then a nurse and doctor were beside to him asking if he knew who and where he was.

He'd been in enough hospitals to know exactly where he was, thank you very much.

The doctor and nurse didn't seem terribly amused when he voiced that thought.

They'd checked him over then hurried out. The hospital was closest to the disaster zone, after all. No time to waste on patients who were recovered enough to provide cheerfully cynical responses to their questions. He couldn't bring himself to feel guilty, not when it gave him more time to catalog his injuries and piece together the past few hours.

The exhaustion was still there, blanketing his mind and body, trying to pull him back to the darkness from whence he'd come. But so was curiosity, poking at him like a child trying to wake her parents. Curiosity, like children, always seemed to win out. Persistence and all that.

The last thing he remembered clearly was gripping Erik's mind. After that, everything became a bit of a blur of nausea and confusion and…blueberries? Odd.

Raven had saved the future. At least he hoped she had. But then what had happened? How had he ended up here and, more importantly, had Erik managed to muck everything up again between then and now?

Judging by what he could catch from the minds around him, the answer to the last question seemed to be no. At least there was that.

As for how he had ended up in the hospital, that was a bit more troubling. Hank had explained it with the objectiveness Charles had come to expect from the scientist, even though he could sense the alternating waves of relief (_Charles didn't die_) and anxiety (_But he easily could have_) still ebbing away.

Part of the stadium had fallen on his leg. That much he remembered. What he hadn't known was that it had fallen in just the wrong place. Pierced his leg. Nicked the femoral artery. That was why he'd felt so ill. It wasn't Erik's disdain. It was shock, then hemorrhaging. Somehow, he had made it all the way from the rubble surrounding the White House to the hospital before the blood loss had been catastrophic.

_It's a miracle_, the nurse had told him.

_It was Erik_, Hank had said when she left.

Charles was fairly certain it was the first time Erik had been equated to a miracle.

Charles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Erik had demonstrated a whole new level of control Charles hadn't even thought possible. He doubted it was something Erik himself had discovered either.

Until now.

Yet again, he was responsible for Erik uncovering a new side of his power. Anyone else, he would be thrilled. But Erik…

For Charles, it had been a miracle.

For the humans Erik hated so, it was a new range of ways to be killed.

Hours later, the room continued to twist in lazy swirls of off-white, creating a floating sensation that wasn't entirely unpleasant apart from the nausea he was still trying to convince himself belonged at least in part to someone else. He wanted nothing more than to give into the pull of fatigue that refused to leave him alone. He was sick of being poked and prodded and force-fed iron supplements, tired of his just-on-the-right-side-of-uncontrolled telepathy picking up the distressed minds around him. He just wanted to go home and sleep for an age.

Yet something wasn't letting him.

Hank and Raven, who had shown up not long after Charles had woken looking terribly pleased with herself, had had to leave with the end of visiting hours. Hank had actually followed that request, but Charles was fairly certain the nurse who kept popping her head in couldn't be making her rounds that quickly. Pain and laziness kept him from confirming whether it was true. It was comforting to think of Raven being concerned for him again. If his instinct was incorrect, though, if Raven had actually gone again…well, he'd rather not know. It was far more comforting to trick himself into thinking she cared.

But that still left him to wonder why his mind was on edge. There was a tickle at the edge of his mind, dampened by his physical maladies and his attempts to block out the rest of the patients, yet quite clearly present. It held a distant familiarity, one Charles hadn't felt since-

The latch to the window slid to the unlocked position and the window scraped open.

Ah.

Magneto stepped in with far more grace than anyone climbing through a window had any right to. How nobody noticed a man floating at the third story window of a hospital, Charles wasn't sure, but he sensed no alarm.

He should've expected this. Heaven forbid Erik leave without getting the last word.

The man righted himself and shut the window with the flick of his wrist. Charles had seen Erik strip his armor when Hank had been so kind as to let him see what had happened from his mind's eye. It would seem the man hadn't reacquired it, though he had changed his clothes. He draped Hank's still dirty jacket over the chair and ran a hand through his hair. Hank had taken the helmet the magnokinetic had left behind and hidden it heaven knows where. For that, Charles was grateful. Judging by Erik's face, they were to have a rather serious conversation no doubt full of underhanded threats, and Charles didn't want to face the coming exchange at a disadvantage.

Not to mention he didn't know what to expect from the man he'd once called his friend. Not after he'd tried to kill Raven. Not after he'd set a Sentinal on Hank. Not after the horrifying manner in which he'd disposed of Logan (though Raven assured him the mutant was out of harm's way).

Clearly, not even their own kind were safe from Erik's wrath.

So Charles had no compunction greeting Erik by diving into his mind and rummaging through his intentions. Erik tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, but didn't start choking Charles with his IV stand, which seemed a positive sign. The clinched fists and rattling the bed made was less so, but he'd take what he could get.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Erik asked as Charles pulled away.

Charles relaxed back into the bed. "You're not here to kill me or any of my colleagues, so yes."

The spinning of the room had picked up again with the focus of his telepathy. He squeezed his eyes shut. He hated showing Erik weakness, but closed eyes were better than throwing up on himself. The air moved and he could feel something at his lip.

"Charles."

He opened his eyes a sliver to find the glass of water the nurse had left in front of him, straw poking out an inch away from his mouth. Erik stood, awkwardly regal, waiting for Charles to react. Charles did, eyes not leaving Erik's. The water was lukewarm, but it helped calm his stomach.

"You aren't…recovered yet," Erik said as he set the glass back down on the bedside table.

"It was a near thing. I'll be suffering the consequences of it for some time. The doctor assured me the dizziness should only subsist for a week, though."

Erik pulled back. "I was unaware it would have such a lasting effect."

His stoic mask was situated firmly in place, but he couldn't hide his mind. The telepath caught a few flashes, men, former Nazis, surrounded by pools of blood.

"Your experience with it is limited to the very lasting effect of death. If you'd allowed any of them to live, they would've suffered the same as me. Though I'm sure dizziness and fatigue aren't quite the punishment you were aiming for with them."

"Get out of my head," Erik snapped, starting to to pace. Apparently, being back in a confined area was taxing his nerves. Charles came an arm's length from pity before remembering his last few encounters with the magnokinetic and backpedaling.

"They deserved what they got," Erik continued

"I'm sure," Charles replied in a tone strikingly similar to the one he'd used with the doctor earlier. "And no."

"No? You don't believe those men deserved death?"

"Their fate isn't my concern. No, I will not get out of your head. You have your power at your disposal and I will have mine."

"That wasn't your attitude before."

"Things have changed. Very much, I hope."

Erik paused again, faced Charles in full. "How much?"

Erik hadn't seen the future they'd worked so hard to stop, but Charles knew he was thinking of it now. Or rather thinking of how they'd set themselves on a new path. Everything that had happened in that future was null.

Everything.

With a sinking realization, Charles comprehended what that truly meant. He and Erik had reconciled, were working together. But now they had come to the proverbial fork in the road and chosen the path not taken. There was no guarantee. Of course, he and Erik both knew they had reconciled, even during the horrors that had beset their future selves. That alone may be enough. Still-

Erik sat, folding his hands in his lap. He held himself stiff as the plastic chair he occupied, but his hands were clasped tightly enough that, even after a decade, Charles could tell he was trying to keep from fidgeting. Old habits die hard.

So does stubbornness. If Erik was going to break into his hospital room at 3 in the morning, he was going to be the one to carry the conversation. Charles looked on expectantly. Erik eventually let out a frustrated sigh and leaned forward onto his knees.

"I didn't know you were there, least of all under a pile of rubble."

"Mmm, it must be difficult keeping track of who you're crushing when you're moving a baseball stadium over the White House. Concentration and all that."

"Do not joke about this, Charles. I am in no mood for this cynical shell you've become. You-"

He shot up from the chair, stalked to the other side of the room. "You were injured by events I was involved in _again_ and, _again,_ you were willing to let me leave before revealing it. If you had collapsed thirty seconds later, I would have been gone. I would have left you there. Mystique and Beast would not have been able to save you."

"No, they wouldn't. You say 'again' as if I had any control in the situation. I admit in Cuba I didn't tell you I couldn't feel my legs . I let you leave with my sister in tow. Today, I had no idea I was injured until I woke in the hospital. It's not as if I sent you skipping on your merry way while I martyred myself. The bigger question, Magneto, is why you care. You never came back after Cuba. You got yourself imprisoned and expected me to lead a race without so much as seeing if I was willing to follow through with your rather ambitious plan. You sat in prison for 10 years, tried to kill my sister when I broke you out to save her, not to mention the fiasco that came after. Really, Erik, why do you even give a damn whether I'm alive or dead?"

Erik stared at him unblinking, let the silence pervade. Charles stared back, making sure to keep his eyes hard.

"If you hadn't used me to move that piece of metal-"

"Really? That's what you're taking from what I said? It's not as if I knew what would happen!" The dizziness was coming back, but Charles had things to say, damn it, and he was going to say them. "If I hadn't utilized your abilities to remove it, I would have succumbed to shock at some point. You would have left, the metal would have been removed eventually ,and I would've bled out right then and there. I suppose I should thank you, though it was rather your fault that Raven and Hank couldn't help me and that I was bleeding out in the first place."

"I'm not here for your thanks," Erik snarled. "You took control of my mind!"

"You dropped a stadium on me then tried to assassinate the president. Of the two of us, I think my transgressions are the lesser."

Silence overtook the room again, broken only by their breathing (which was surprisingly loud…panting really) and the steady, if somewhat elevated, beeping of Charles' heart monitor. Charles tried to keep eye contact with Erik, but the dizziness really was becoming a problem.

"Shit," he said, leaning back into the pillow and putting a hand over his eyes. It didn't help. He could still feel the world spinning. What had been a pleasant, floating feeling before was getting out of control, like the tilt-a-whirl he'd ridden when he and Raven had snuck out to the fair for her 14th birthday.

He'd thrown up then too.

He really didn't want to throw up in front of Erik.

He heard a sigh and footsteps approached the bed again before the springs creaked at the addition of weight. He could feel Erik right at the juncture of his hip where he lost sensation.

"If you're using this to your advantage…"

"Yes, Erik, I'm pretending to be dizzy. In a few moments, I'm going to pretend to throw up on your lap and you're going to have to pretend to clean it up and buy new clothes." He risked pulling his hand away from his eyes and squinted, the most he'd attempt for the moment. "Where did you get those, anyway? Did you just have them lying around after 10 years in prison?"

Erik rolled his eyes. He actually rolled his eyes. That wasn't something Magneto would do, not something the man who had nearly downed a plane reprimanding Charles would have even considered.

"We need to talk. At length. It seems you aren't prepared for that now. Will you be alright?"

Charles sighed. "In time. As I said, the dizziness will last another week or so. I should be back to normal within 3 to 4 months."

"Three to four months?"

Charles could've sworn he heard not only shock but mild concern in that exclamation. Obviously a side effect of the blood loss.

"Red blood cells don't regenerate spontaneously." Unless you were Logan, but that thought made him want to punch Erik again, so he should probably avoid it. "It takes time. At least I don't have to do physical therapy." He patted his leg where he knew the gash was. Erik kept his face neutral, though Charles felt a touch of a mental wince.

Erik stood. "Be careful. We don't know what the future holds now. When the Sentinals begin attacking us, we'll need your help."

"If the Sentinals begin attacking us, I will do everything in my power to keep us safe. It's you who should be careful. Do not instigate the war you came so close to starting yesterday."

"What would you do, Charles? You said you didn't want to be in my head anymore."

"I'll do what's necessary, Erik. You may not have meant to threaten my life, but you did mean to threaten the lives of those closest to me. Do not test the limits of my friendship."

"Are we friends then?" Erik sniped. "After the past few days, I'm surprised you haven't forced me out the window yet."

"Just because someone stumbles, loses their way, doesn't mean they're lost forever."

Erik pulled back, physically startled, searching Charles' eyes.

Charles didn't mean it yet, but he tried to exude as earnestness as possible. He couldn't forgive Erik the things he'd done, not when he showed no remorse. But they needed to keep that door open. If they were to lead the mutant race into the future, they'd have to come to some kind of truce. Not tonight, probably not tomorrow, but eventually.

Erik turned. The window opened.

"Goodbye, old friend."

"Goodbye, Erik."

The window shut and locked behind him.

Charles lay there for a moment, trying to control the nausea, mind racing over what had just happened. It was too much for one day. He was starting to get a headache on top of everything else.

The door cracked open and the usual nurse poked her head in. She startled a bit when she saw Charles looking back at her but recovered and gave the machines around him a haphazard check…rather more quickly than the nurse who had come in last time despite having the same face. Charles offered her a hesitant smile as she left. She smiled back and winked before shutting the door, a flash of gold catching in the light of the hallway.

Charles relaxed back into the bed, smiling. A genuine smile, he realized. It had been so long he'd almost forgotten what it felt like. Perhaps…perhaps things weren't as hopeless as they'd seemed a week ago. Only time would tell what the future held.

He closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

* * *

_I'm not going to pretend to have vast medical knowledge of the femoral artery and injuries to it. I have an idea of where it is and I tried looking into what would actually happen if said artery were to be injured, but I ended up getting a bunch of trauma pictures of beams going through people's legs and, as someone who passes out pretty much just being a doctor's office, I felt it would be better for my health if I stopped. I'd rather write a slightly inaccurate portrayal of the medical side of this than not be able to write at all because I'm passed on out my floor._

_The stumbling quote and Erik and Charles' goodbyes to one another are from the movie._

_I hope everyone liked it. If you don't, just pretend it didn't happen. I wanted to get something published because I had an epic fail writing a chapter of my other X-Men fic (seriously epic) and it's my birthday tomorrow so I wanted to put out something positive. Forgive any typos. Reviews are welcome, as always. :)_


End file.
